Hunters
by kou-tora
Summary: Dick and Roy are hunters, there is evil in town, and Conner questions what's so good about pie. Written for the YJ Challenge fic exchange.


Written for the YJ_Challenge's first fic exchange. My prompt was " A Supernatural AU. (Original, right?) With Dick as (daddy's little solider) Dean, Roy as Sam, Bats as John, Supey as Cas, Clark as absent-father God, other people as other people or whatever. Seriously though, have them do whatever you wish, I just want to see this happen."

This was amazing to plan out/plot, as I'm a massive Supernatural fan. There are still a ton of details/side stories I want to cover, so additional fics in this verse may follow. :3 I took some liberties with the Supernatural Canon, but hopefully it should be still familiar to SPN fans and still interesting for non-SPN folks.

Also, as a warning, the vast majority of this was written late at night/early morning, so odds are there are typos and mistakes. I'll try to fix them as I see them!

* * *

><p>"No. No witches. I <em>hate <em>witches." Dick loudly proclaims as he stabs a French fry into his vanilla ice cream sundae. He kicks his feet back and forth under the table like an angry child, occasionally kicking the table leg - or a shin. Across from him Roy just gives him a blank look from over the top of his laptop and kicks back.

"It might not even be witches. I'm guessing shape-shifter." Roy goes back to typing, trying to ignore the disgusting display Dick was putting on by devouring the greasy diner food with sugary products. Roy happily picked at his garden salad.

Dick stuck out his tongue in disgust. "Bleh, shape-shifters are gross." He pulls at the skin on his face for emphasis. "They always leave a mess behind. All that skin and goop. And the _smell!_ Remember that time I stepped in it? I had to burns those boots with the body." He waves a fry around before dipping it into the melting ice cream and loudly munching on it. "It's disgusting, _heavy_ on the dis."

Roy just rolls his eyes. He's not sure what is more annoying, Dick's eating habits or his butchery of the English language. And how he can eat while describing the left over product of a shifter is beyond him. Roy eyes his now forgotten salad. They should really stop discussing missions over meals.

"You contact Bruce already?" Dick asks.

Roy nods, not looking up from his laptop. "He agrees with shape-shifter. Says we should work on figuring out where it's picking its victims and follow it from there." Roy scoffs at the last part. "Like we need to be told _that_." He bitterly adds under his breath. Dick just hums quietly in reply.

Bruce Wayne; Businessman and notorious playboy by day. Hunter of the supernatural at night. Also their adoptive father. Sometimes Bruce has a hard time separating the many roles he plays. Especially when it comes to his sons sharing the same line of work as he.

When Bruce was very young, he had witnessed the slaughter of his parents right before his very eyes. Police had called it a mugging gone wrong. Bruce had witnessed something else entirely though. What he had seen as a boy that night set him on his life goal. To kill the monster responsible, and all the other evils that infest Gotham and claim the city as their hunting grounds.

He was one of the very few that took up the task of being a permanent Hunter in Gotham. The city was a notorious nest of all manners of evil; such as the shifter Clayface, Two-face the rugaru or the demon Black Mask. The source being a hell-gate that lies beneath the city's foundation. Nicknamed Arkham, the hell-gate is the sole reason why Gotham is infested with endless supernatural entities. The gate is cracked, if only slightly. Unable to be repaired, the crack allows all the evil that has been killed off or exorcized to eventually crawl back to the surface again. So essentially, Bruce's work is an endless cycle. Kill of the evil, and earn a small breath of time before it eventually returns again.

Some may call Bruce's work hopeless. Dick simply believes that Bruce's goal is to ultimately concur over the evil. Show no fear, weakness or hesitation, and just maybe the monsters will give up and never return.

Thus the legend of the Dark Knight was born.

"He mention what he's been working on?" Dick casually asks as he stirs a French fry stick through the melting ice cream as if he was stirring tea with a spoon. Keep the conversation light, yet on topic.

Roy pauses from his typing and gives Dick a brief worrying glance. "He thinks the Joker is back again."

Dick suddenly looses his appetite. Even though they're halfway across the country and well away from Gotham, he still feels the haunting chill of the Joker crawl up his spine.

The Joker. A malicious creature of unknown origin that's sole purpose revolves around chaos and destruction. No matter how many times Bruce has killed or exorcised the clown, he still manages to return.

As if reading his brother's thoughts, Roy gives Dick a small reassuring smile. Or what could be considered a smile for Roy. "He's fine."

"I know that." Dick shoots back defensively. He knows Bruce will be fine. He's been hunting years longer then either Dick or Roy, and for the majority by himself, but it doesn't stop him from worrying.

He owes Bruce _everything_. Without Bruce, Dick very well doubted he'd even be alive today.

Dick thought back to how he had reached this point. Not specifically eating at a diner in some Midwest sleepy town that he could barely remember the name of. More like how at sixteen his chosen career in life was cruising across the country killing supernatural monsters.

His parents certainly didn't have that planned for him. Dick often wondered what they would think if they saw him now. Not that being raised in a circus was normal compared to this.

The thought of his parents brought a painful stab in his heart that would probably never heal. So many memories. So many nightmares.

The traveling circus they lived with had arrived at Gotham during their yearly circuit. His parents were the star attraction in the bigtop as The Flying Graysons, world-class acrobats and masters on the trapeze. Dick was only eight.

He remembered, vividly, the moment his parents' eye turned black. Like they had been dyed with ink. He remembers them falling, their bodies colliding with the hard floor and crumpling like paper dolls.

He especially remembers them getting up again, smiles on their faces and bodies twisted all the wrong ways. The sound of his father's neck snapping back into place is something he'll never forget.

Dick doesn't remember much after that.

Bruce explained it all to him later, after he had driven the black smoke from their bodies and closed their now cleared eyes. Demons had possessed his parents' bodies. They wanted to ruin the circus, for some reason or another. Dick had wondered if his parents could have been saved. Bruce explained that they only continued to live, and suffer, while being possessed. They had died the moment they fell.

Bruce had seen so much of himself in Dick. Orphaned, alone and nothing but nightmares to keep him company. Bruce took Dick under his wing, vowing that even if he couldn't help the boy's parents, he'd help the boy himself.

And so Bruce taught Dick everything he knew. And Dick readily learned. Eight years later and now he's killed virtually every known type of monster, spook and spirit alike. The number of people he's saved is just as many. Dick hopes his parents were atleast proud of him for that.

"You're dribbling there bird-brain." Roy's comment temporarily snapped Dick out of his musings. Melting ice cream pooled down the side of the dish, making a sticky mess on the table. Dick grabs another soggy fry and mops it up.

"You boys need anything else?" The waitress wanders over to their table, mainly to give Roy a flirtatious wink. Roy doesn't bother looking up from his laptop to acknowledge her presence. Dick just chuckles at her rejection.

"You'll have to excuse my little brother, he's not exactly what you'd call sociable. But I'll take another order of fries." Dick smiles sweetly up at her. The waitress looks like she wants to question the 'little brother' comment, but then just shakes her head and thinks better of it.

"Sure thing hun" She gives Roy one last parting glance before sauntering back over to the kitchen.

Dick laughs, never getting tired of people's reactions to him calling Roy his 'little brother'. Little being a term that doesn't apply to Roy in the least, as he's taller, more heavily built and older. Dick just claims that because he was adopted first, Roy is thus the 'little' brother. Mostly Dick says it to confuse the hell out of other people when they see the two together, as they are nothing alike.

Still, just because they aren't related doesn't mean they don't consider themselves brothers. If anything, they were closer then most blood relatives.

Dick was ten when he first met Roy, two years into training and skilled enough to join Bruce on the occasional patrol. Roy was fifteen. Like Dick, Roy met Bruce after he had lost everything.

They crossed paths with him during a scouting trip through the back woods of Gotham. A rogue werewolf was responsible for the death of Roy's previous guardian, a Navajo chief who had raised Roy. Already highly skilled in archery, Roy had tracked the werewolf down. Unfortunately he didn't know the secret to killing the beast, and only managed to wound and further infuriated it. The arrival of Bruce and Dick saw to the beast's demise though.

Exhausted and emotionally broken, Roy could barely process the fact that his only family was gone forever, let alone that fact that monsters exist. Taking pity on the defeated teenager, Bruce opened his home to yet another stray.

And thus Dick gained a brother for life. Bruce gained another son, and another soldier in the fight against evil.

"So. Shape-shifter. Bruce have any suggestions on how to gank it?" Dick mumbles as he sucks on a greasy fry. Roy just scowls.

"Obviously we need to discover its motives and find a pattern in the people it is killing." Roy closes the laptop lid and goes back to picking at his salad.

"Uh huh, but what does _Bruce_ suggest?" Dick presses. He knows where this will go, but sometimes it can't be avoided.

"It doesn't matter what Bruce thinks. _He's_ in Gotham. _We_ are here. Our case, our plan." Roy stubbornly replies, stabbing at his salad as if he was killing it. He dutifully does not look at Dick, hoping he'll drop it.

Dick however, plans on following this through. "Technically he's the one who sent us here."

Roy slams his fist on the table, startling the few other patrons around. "It doesn't matter! We don't always have to do what Bruce says!"

Dick just sighs in response. Same old argument, same old temper. In all their journeys together, Dick doesn't know if he should be grateful or worried that things are still the same.

The 'thing' being that their adoptive father was kind of a control-freak, both as a father and as a mentor, and that Roy never responded well to authority. Granted, it's something Dick has seen since day one when they first met Roy, but even he didn't predict how much and how long the feud would escalate.

Or that it would be the main reason how they ended up Midwest in the middle of nowhere, hunting down some shape shifter.

The short and sweet of it was, Roy was tired of Bruce's militaristic ideology and felt confined by all the rules they were forced to live under. Maybe it was because Roy was older, or had lived with Bruce a much shorter time then Dick, but Roy was never comfortable being one of Bruce's soldiers.

Ultimately, despite Dick's best efforts to console his brother, Roy left. Dick remembers that night, when Roy came to him, telling Dick that he was leaving, and giving him the option to tag along. To be free of Bruce and finally live his own life. For Dick, that was the one choice he could never make. To choose between his father and brother. Ultimately his hesitation answered for him, and Roy left alone. Dick never told a soul how much he cried that night.

His new family was broken, and the guilt that weighed on Dick because he didn't follow Roy was slowing devouring him. Roy would call on occasion, but the distance was felt everyday. It would be six full months until Bruce finally saw what was happening to his sons. So he came up with a solution that would benefit everyone.

Roy and Dick would travel across the country and continue to hunt. They would have full access to Bruce's hunter funds and equipment, on the condition that they went on missions that Bruce gave them. Additionally they would provide Bruce with data and intel on the monsters they encountered, and followed leads on possible ways to seal the hell-gate Arkham. They may not be directly under Bruce's thumb anymore, but still would have his support. Honestly Dick wouldn't ask for anything more.

The bell on the diner's door chimes, catching Dick's attention. He smirks and waves to the newcomer. "Conner! Dude, where have you been?"

A muscular-built teenager joins them at their booth and slides in next to Dick, pushing him to the inside. He sits stiffly, and picks at the seams on his cargo pants. "I was in the park."

Dick studies Conner for a moment, as if trying to read any form of emotion off of the stoic male. "See anything interesting?"

A slight frown appears on Conner's face. He shrugs. "People. Trees. Birds."

Dick just nods in understanding, almost sympathetically. "What you need, my friend, is pie." Dick pats Conner's shoulder in comfort. Conner looks confused, and almost wary.

"Pie?"

Dick nods enthusiastically "Yeah, pie! Everyone loves pie. Especially when they're having a bad day."

"Not me." Roy interjects.

"Well, you're a freak. Seriously Con, pie will make everything better. Where's our waitress?" Dick looks around the small diner to attract their waitress's attention.

"I don't understand how a pastry will make me better." Conner looks confused, and almost slightly hopeful.

"Oh well, it won't give you your wings back or anything. It would be cool if it did though! Miracle pie! That would be awesome. But seriously, pie is just something that makes you feel better, because it tastes good. Get it?"

Conner looks like he doesn't quite get it, but then their waitress appears with a fresh order of greasy fries for Dick. Upon seeing their newcomer, she immediately takes an interest. "What can I get for you, handsome?" She gives Conner the same flirtatious wink she gave Roy. Conner just gives her a blank look.

"He wants a hot slice of apple pie. Oh, and some ice cream on the side too!" Dick answer for Conner when he doesn't say anything. The waitress gives Dick a brief glare, and wanders off to the next table down. What's with all the hot guys who don't talk?

"Feeding Conner junk food is not the best way to introducing him to human life, you know." Roy speaks up as he finishes off his salad. Dick gives him a scandalous look.

"Blasphemy! Pie is not junk food! It's a delicious delicacy directly from heaven - that's a figure of speech Con." Dick quickly adds just as Conner opens his mouth to comment.

"I was also speaking about the slop you're eating. Conner, for the record, that is not the normal way to eat French fries or ice cream." Roy waves his fork at Dick's ice cream and French fry mixture. Dick just sticks his tongue out at him.

Conner is still wondering how pie could be so amazing. There were so many human things that he has yet to understand. As he sees it though, he's got lots of time to learn. Being a fallen angel ensures that.

"So did you like the park?" Dick asks, deciding to ignore Roy.

Conner nods, but his head turns slightly as he looks up and out the window. He watches the sky. He thinks of the birds.

Dick follows Conner's line of sight. Seeming to understand what Conner is seeing, Dick gives Conner a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll help you get your wings back. _I promise_."

Conner just nodded.

A few weeks ago Dick and Roy had tracked the signs of demon activity to a small Kansas city. It was an unusual gathering with lots of suspicious talk. Rumors and some on-the-spot interrogations lead them to an underground bunker decorated with hundreds of sigils and symbols of all kinds. Cracking down the doors revealed the demons' nest, and what they were hiding.

Chained to the back wall shirtless and bleeding, surrounded by a ring of fire, was a teenager. At their dramatic entrance he looked up, and even in the bright firelight, Dick could only see sadness and agony in the his eyes. It wasn't until they doused the fire, unchained him and carried him out into the sunlight did they really learn who, or what, they had rescued.

A demon, the last in the group, had snuck around and leapt at Dick from behind. In a flash or brilliant light, the teenager pinned the demon to the ground and burned the smoking monster out of the human body it possessed. With his bare hand.

The first thing Dick asked was his name. All he replied was "Kon" before passing out.

Dick immediately knew, that this one was different. This one was _good_. Roy just complained about having to haul dead-weight back to their car. But considering he did save his brother, he wasn't going to judge him quite yet.

It wasn't until Kon, or as Dick had further named Conner, had woken up did they get his side of the story.

Conner, or properly named Kon-El, is a full-fledged Angel of the Lord. Or, atleast now a fallen one. While he was suspiciously tight-lipped about why he was on Earth, Kon-el did admit that this was his first time. He hadn't expected nor was prepared for the demon ambush that greeted him.

Angels don't have the notion of time like humans do, so he didn't know how long he was imprisoned. All he knew was that for a very long time he was tortured and beaten by the demons. Kon-El had endured, to protect his brothers and sisters, but it came with a price.

His wings were withered and dead. His Grace was depleted, and he could no longer hear the voices of his family. He didn't dare go back either, being the disgrace he was. His older brother Kal-El the arch-angel, would never look at him again. Cut off and fallen, he was alone. Which Dick then promptly declared false, because himself and Roy were right there with him.

Conner, for being an emotionless entity from heaven, looked like he was about to cry.

So, their duo became a trio. Roy and Dick would continue to do missions for Bruce, all while finding a way to restore Conner to his former glory. Conner vowed to protect the brothers and aid them where he could. He owed them that much. He may be wingless, but he wasn't _powerless. _

"Hey, Roy?"

"Hm?"

"Do me a favor."

Roy gives his brother a suspicious glance. "What?"

"Do a vid-test on the guy behind me." Dick jerks his head backwards, motioning towards the single male who sits several booths down behind them. "You've been watching him, right?"

Roy narrows his eyes. "Yes, but he doesn't look the type."

Conner starts to turn to see who they're talking about, but Dick's hand on his shoulder stops him. The waitress is suddenly at their table to deliver Conner's pie. She doesn't even give them a second look before wandering over to the newcomers who just entered the diner.

"What's he been doing?" Dick asks in a manner that suggests he already knows the answer. "Here Con, eat it with this." He passes a fork to Conner, who's looking at the pie like it's an alien species.

"He's been here for a half hour, only orders a coffee. He's just been watching people as them come and go, chatting with the waitress." Roy murmured, just low enough for them to hear.

"Creeper? Pervert?"

Roy just shakes his head. "Isn't looking at them right. Thought it might be those guys." Roy indicates with a nod of his head towards the two ruffian looking newcomers who were adamantly chatting with the waitress.

Dick just shakes his head. "Nah, no shape-shifter is that obvious. But those two certainly aren't from around here." Dick gives a sly smile which Roy knows trouble will soon follow.

Roy gives another glance at the two men before agreeing that they probably weren't their target. The kills and victims didn't suggest that there were two shape shifters in the area. He looks back at Dick who's giving him a smug smile.

Roy sighs then pulls out his camera phone. Dick sits up in the booth and wraps his arm around the shoulders of an unsuspecting Conner, who has his mouth open wide as he just about takes his first bite of pie. Dick flashes a peace sign with his fingers as Roy takes the picture. In the background, the man's eyes glow yellow.

Roy looks down at his phone to confirm, and looks up to see Dick still smiling. "You knew he'd come here the whole time."

Dick just shrugs innocently, but comes off looking like a brat. "Lucky guess?"

Roy just snarls in irritation. Dick was a lot like Bruce in all the annoying ways. Instead of telling people outright of what they learn, they'd rather play it out and lead everybody along.

"He doesn't look right." Conner says suddenly, the pie on his plate mysterious gone. Even the ice cream and crumbs.

"Gee Con, that was nice." Dick chuckled sarcastically.

Conner just tilts his head in confusion. "I was not aware that what I said was a compliment?" The angel still had a long way to go in the art of understanding sarcasm.

Dick just shakes his head at Conner's questioning look. "Forget it Con. What did you mean by he doesn't look right?"

"Can you tell he's a shape shifter?" Roy adds. If the angel could simply spot supernatural monsters anywhere, their jobs just got infinitely easier.

Conner shrugs. "He just doesn't look…natural?" He tests the word, then nods when he decides that is the best way to describe it.

Their discussion is cut short when the shape-shifter stands and exit's the diner. Roy waves down the waitress and quickly pays for their meal.

Outside, they head off around the corner block to a side alley where Roy had parked the car previously. A cherry-red classic Ford Mustang nicknamed Arsenal. His pride and joy. Dick had originally wanted to bring his motorcycle, but traveling across country with it was hardly practical.

Popping open the trunk, Roy checked their equipment and started setting up his compound bow and backup crossbow. Dick suddenly appeared at his side, and began equipping himself with silver-lined throwing daggers and short-sword. They both had backup pistols if needed for an emergency, but both preferred to fight with less explosive or loud weaponry. Bows and daggers were easier to explain to cops than guns.

Conner leaned up against the side of the car and just tried to look threatening.

"Ready to go?" Dick asks as he secures his gauntlets.

Roy is looking across the parking lot, as the two guys from the diner fuss over their own car. "Did you slash the tires on that Impala?"

Dick's smug smile is his reply. Roy just sighs at his brother's childish motives. "Dare I ask why?"

"Oh, just eliminating some competition." Dick simply answers. Roy knows better then to ask.

They pile into the car, Roy driving, Dick in shotgun and Conner folded in the middle of the back seats. Letting the engine purr a moment, Roy shifts it into gear and heads off down the road where the shape shifter had previous walked down. They'd tail it until it was in a secluded area before striking.

"Hey Roy?"

"Hmmm?"

"Think Bruce would believe in angels if we introduce Conner to him?"

Roy is surprised by the question. He looks in the rearview mirror at the angel who's returned to watching the sky through the window. The angel had brought up more then once his desire at meeting the brothers' father and mentor.

But then Roy remembers what Bruce is like. He looks at his brother and just raises and eyebrow.

Dick just chuckles. "Yeah, you're right. Stupid question.

* * *

><p>"Get out." Bruce growls, aiming another dagger at the intruder.<p>

"Please stop throwing things at me. They won't do any good." Kal-El sighs as he pulls out a dagger from where it was imbedded in his chest. . Bruce just growls again.

"Your little brother isn't here. I don't care if your some arch-angel nonsense. I don't tolerate anything supernatural in my city. Now get out." Bruce all but snarls. He wonders what demon or witch he managed to piss off enough to warrant this sort of punishment. Angel of the Lord his ass. What angel just shows up looking like a farm-boy from Kansas?

"I'm sorry Bruce, but I'm here to stay. I've been charged with helping you accomplish your goal and cleanse this world of evil. I also require your assistance in locating my missing brother. Surely you can understand the concept of protecting your family?" Kal-El pleads, almost looking human. If he wasn't hovering a foot off the floor.

Bruce just sighs. He's stabbed, maimed, shot and cursed everything he knew that kills at the entity known as Kal-El, yet he still stands. As far as he knew, there was nothing he could do to actually get rid of him. The mention of a missing brother picked at Bruce's heart strings as he thought of his own sons.

"Fine, but one last thing." Bruce sets the dagger on the workbench.

Kal-El visibly brightens. "Anything!"

Bruce shots him again just in case.


End file.
